The Incident
by yoohooyoohoo
Summary: Carley is sent to report a gory murder in New York City, with one of the interviewees being Bigby Wolf. The clashing personalities of the two make outcomes of working together difficult and unexpected.
1. Chapter 1

The heat wasn't something she was surprised about. Atlanta's summer temperatures were similar to that of New York City. The different cities seemed fairly similar in exterior. Humid, hot, crowded, and loud. But the most distinct difference was the people who lived there.

Georgia, or the South in general, had their own breed of people. This was the same for the state of New York. Most would imagine that a sudden change of personality to the outside world of moving and working would be unsettling. But surprisingly, Carley enjoyed it. She was a fast-moving woman with somewhere to be and something to go get. Once that was done, she moved onto something else. It was a constant and fulfilling cycle of getting work done, clearing up complications for getting information, and moving on to the next story. And she was craving a distant location change for the longest time.

A job is a job. But constantly being sent an hour from town just for a filler beat-around-the-bush story was giving her second thoughts on the placement of her talents. Luckily, she was recognized soon enough. And the fussy streets made her feel like she was right where she needed to be. To make matters even better, the story was disgusting. It was creepy, questionable, and absurd. That only meant that it was a hit waiting to happen.

"Carley." She smoothly introduced herself while a slender wrist extended to the man in front of her. Her head tilted upwards to view his face, which was perched on a much taller body than her's was.

"Look, I'm not going to do this for long. I've got other shit to do. I don't need to be hounded for answers right now." He flatly warned in his deep tone, roughly pulling a chair behind him and sitting down. A cigarette was firmly held in his fingers, each puff and blow of smoke filling up the small office more and more. The bright signs and car headlights from the street were the only things that allowed the inside of Mr. Wolf's dimly-lit office to be vaguely visible.

Her hand was dropped back to her side after the invitation for a handshake was ignored. This wasn't going to be easy. "That's fine." She muttered, clearing her throat. "About what time do you remember seeing… the scene?" Asking somebody who was personally affected was much more difficult. Not like she blamed the man. Finding the severed head of a loved one on the front steps of your residence isn't something _she_ would feel comfortable talking about either. The fact that it was only a few days after the incident didn't help.

"Around 1:00 or 2:00 AM, I think." The voice answered, dark eyes flickering to the cigarette, to her, and then back to the cigarette. "Do you predict that this was done by a well-known offender, or that it was an act of insanity from a stranger?" The "on" button on her recorder was gently pushed to pick up his answer without taxing Carley's memory, though it was clear that Bigby Wolf wasn't in the mood to talk anymore.

"You know what? I'm not doing this. Ask the fucking police station. Ask Crane. Ask somebody else. I just…"

A calloused hand with knuckles stained in red bruises traveled upwards to run through his dark-brown hair.

"... I don't need to deal with people like you right now." He projected in a loud and aggravated tone, now standing up to hold the door open and show her out.

Carley was a naturally impatient person. She expected things to always go off without a hitch, since for her, things always did. But now was not a time to be impatient. It was a complex story, and getting what she needed was going to be touchy. If anything, maybe making time to interview him so early wasn't a good idea. Success for the evening was hoped for, but she had a feeling that it would end similarly to the way it just had. A job like this required strategy, and she had all of the time in the world to plan it out.

She gripped the handle of the briefcase at her side firmly, and stood from the wooden seat. There wasn't any need to get a coat off of the back of the chair, since she didn't even have time to take it off. At a relaxed pace, Carley walked to the end of the office. But instead of making an immediate exit, she directed herself towards Bigby. He was tensely standing in front of the wooden barrier, holding it open with the weight of his back while his arms were dropped at his sides. Now that a portal to the outside hallway was open, a bright beam of yellow light projected a large rectangle on the floor of the room, as well as onto his face. He looked even more tired, now that Carley could actually see him.

She stepped to the front of him, the beam of light now casting on her face as well.

"Look, Mr. Wolf. I understand th-"

"I don't think you understand anything about this." He muttered, a nearly sarcastic tone matching his unamused facial expression.

"... Mr. Wolf. This isn't easy for you. I can tell. But sooner or later, I'm going to have to hear about the incident from you."

He looked at the woman before him, her petite frame and small height forcing him to tilt his head downwards to make eye contact. He was angry. Not specifically at her, but he was angry. There wasn't any room to be polite at a time like this. Bigby didn't have anything to say in reply, but it didn't feel odd. With furrowed brows, he continued to look at the reporter while she finally turned and made her way into the hallway.

Before he shut the door, Carley turned back.

"Take your time."

And with that, she was heading out of the building. The same petite hand rose into the air, now casually waving down a taxi. After a long day of traveling and moving, Carley wanted nothing more than a good night's sleep in the hotel room that awaited her.

Bigby was back in the stiff chair, a newly lit cigarette now held in his hand. A sharp exhale left his body as visions of Snow's lifeless face began to reappear in his mind. Forcefully, he hit a fist on the wooden surface of the desk out of frustration. Knowing that an innocent woman was killed, and in such a brutal way, was disheveling enough. But in the mundy community, her death was almost completely unnoticed. The only people who seemed to care were the fables in the area, (well, the fables who knew that Snow was dead) and a few members of the police department. A sick injustice like this wasn't meant to be quietly stuffed within the files and files of crime in the violence-central of a city. Her death needed to be acknowledged.

A small blue light cast from a cell phone facing upwards at the white ceiling woke Carley up, even before the loud ringing and vibrating had ensued. Concerned about the possibility of it being an emergency, she scooped the device up off of the bedside table and answered the unknown number.

"Yes, hello, what." She weakly greeted, squinting her not-yet-adjusted eyes.

"It's late, I know." A familiar deep voice replied.

"Mr. Wolf? Shit- what is it, 3 in the morning?"

"... Can you meet tomorrow?"


	2. Chapter 2

"I imagine this was urgent, since-"

Bigby jumped in his chair, hurriedly turning around to see Carley standing in his doorway. He had been sitting in silence for so long that the sound of another's person voice was far more startling that it should have been.

"Sorry. Should have knocked." She admitted, remaining still in her place. "What I was saying was that I imagined this was going to be urgent. You know, since you called me in the middle of the night about it."

Disregarding her passive aggressive statement, he moved his hand and motioned for her to have a seat. Carley did as he requested, sitting down and placing her briefcase at her side. In an odd way, it seemed like the exact same setup as last night. They both sat in the same chair, Bigby was still smoking, and had the same shirt on as he did when she last saw him.

Immediately, the realization came to her. Bigby hadn't moved at all since the interview.

"You staring at something?" He sharply questioned, his words slightly slurred while the cigarette was held between his lips. For a few seconds, Carley was quiet. She could tell that a snippy outburst wouldn't do either of the two any good. But her outspoken curiosity overpowered her, once again.

"Why are you doing this to yourself?" She asked, leaning forwards in her seat and placing a hand on her hip. He raised an eyebrow, eyes within dark circles blankly staring back at her. "I don't need a lecture on smoking cigarettes, thanks."

"No, I don't mean that. You haven't slept at all since last night, have you?" Almost in what seemed like a guilty silence, Bigby didn't respond. Which only fueled Carley's outbursts even more. "God, have you even had something to eat? I know that this-"

"You don't know." He assertively corrected, similarly to the way he had before. "... You need to take care of yourself. It's been three days. Four, starting now."

"I need to do some things, and that's not at the top of my list. I don't need to hear 'wise words' from another random stranger about how I need to pull myself together. It's none of your business. You're here to do your job, and that's it." Obviously, he was in the same edgy, impatient mood as he was merely 12 hours ago. The two shared a short moment of silence while Carley leaned back, slightly unhappy that he actually had a valid point. He rested on his left elbow, his fist pressed against his forehead while he held his irritated stare.

"What changed your mind? If you don't mind me asking. With letting me interview you, I mean."

The sound of the question immediately made his facial expression soften. Not necessarily into something calm, just something more somber.

"I thought of Snow. She's dead. This woman… she could still be happily fixing the community just like she always wanted to, and standing for what she thought was right, and relaxing, and- and enjoying herself, but she's not. If this didn't happen, Snow would be sitting in this very office right now. I almost lost her so many times before, but she always got herself out of it. And now?"

He raised his voice, violently standing up from the chair and pacing to the window. The faint sound of honking cars and talkative civilians could be heard from where he stood.

"She was important to me. There is no good reason for her to be dead right now. I don't want that to go unnoticed. Snow's death doesn't belong between the few of us. She's already gone, and the reason why needs to be well known."

The tense man's silhouette stood still in the bright window, the heat from the outdoors lightly beaming itself on his skin. He walked back to his chair, pulling it up behind him as usual and resuming his slouched posture. "There's your answer."

Carley frowned, glancing to the shiny, wooden desk in front of him. It was riddled with ashes, coffee rings, scattered paperwork, and a small silver (slightly unrecognizable) container, which she swore was a flask.

"... Okay."

Bigby was right. Carley could never know the exact way he felt. Nobody did. Nagging the grown man about something he'd heard dozens of times before was probably taking a toll on his current state, though it was falling apart to start with.

With that, she removed her sound recorder, notebook, and pen from the leather case that rested at her feet.

"Describe the scene from the very beginning. Before you saw her, before you even stepped up to the stairs."

She clicked the "on" button on the small device before her, and nodded towards him.

"Whenever you're ready."

* * *

"... Sometimes, I still get so pissed off when I think about how the cops almost didn't let me see her. I mean, I stepped through the gate before they stopped me. But if somebody else had to tell the story for me? Shit…"

Even though she was far more rested and fed than Bigby was, Carley's energy was draining. Simply absorbing and recording the information that was being dished out to her was tiring. But she couldn't complain. She had gotten more than enough needed for the story, and it only took another day.

Bigby, without even noticing, was slumped a few inches lower from his original position in his chair over the hours. His eyes were warm and stinging, and the words constantly rushing from his mouth forced his brain to go on autopilot.

"It was just like the first murder on the stairs, which Snow showed me to start with. See, I was allowed to look at that one, because it was just Snow and I. But with Snow's, they almost didn't let me look at it. I made it past the gate-"

"I think you already mentioned that." Carley interrupted, her words muffled by the palm pressed on her jaw from leaning on her elbow. Bigby halted, awaking from his still gaze into space to turn to Carley while squinting.

"... I don't think so."

"No, you did. You definitely just did."

The man leaned back in his seat, shaking his head in disbelief. "I think I have what I need." She gently concluded. The supplies that rested on her lap were now being dropped back in the briefcase, and stored away with a metal push and click. Her eyes struggled to function inside, now that the sunlight from outside had long faded. Even more eager to head back to her hotel room than she was the last night, Carley hoisted herself out of the chair and lazily scooped the case up.

"Thank you for your information, Bigby. Mr. Wolf." She added, making a slight correction. No matter how exhausted she was, the least she could do was try and remain professional. Bigby barely moved his attention, only slightly turning his head to her. "You're welcome." He replied with a low mutter. As another long yawn escaped her body, her black, sleek shoes began to carry her to the wooden door. "Have a nice sleep. I mean-okay, you get it."

The tired detective's eyes blankly rested on the corner of a room, near the window. "Yeah, same to you." He weakly responded. Continuing to remain frozen in place with an empty mind, the sound of her shoes exiting the room and the door shutting echoed within the paneled walls. A few seconds passed, before a large, white figure was noticed in his peripheral vision. It was outside, and the fuzzy filter of the dirty window didn't help him identify it. Now, getting concerned, he stepped out of his chair and unsteadily walked to the yellow-ish glass panel.

"Carley!" He bellowed, scrambling out of the room and sprinting into the hallway. Carley halted, raising an eyebrow and removing her hand from the final door handle she needed to open in order to get outside.

"Don't go outside. You have to wait." He hurriedly informed, his eyes wide open.

"...What? Why? What's wrong?"

Grendel is outside and he wants to fight.

"... There's a really shady guy outside. The police had- has issues with him. A lot. He's known to get violent, sometimes mug people around the street. I just didn't want you to get involved with that."

The lie, though a few aspects of it were true, was spat out of his mouth as easily as the crime interview information was. Either way, be it a human criminal or a monster asshole, no innocent mundy should have to deal with that when they don't have to.

"..O...kay?" Carley questionably answered, furrowing her brows. "Thanks for telling me, I guess. I didn't see anybody outside, though."

It could be seen through his point of view that the enemy now moved merely a few feet in front of the door. A nervous wave of urgency made Bigby gently take Carley by the wrist. He tugged her back in his direction, insisting she went back inside his office. "Let's sit and wait for a while."

Carley stopped in her steps again, slowly maneuvering her wrist out of his Bigby's grip. "Okay." She sternly approved, now nodding for him to keep walking back the hall. Sure, his concern was appreciated. But a stubborn personality like her's could only take treatment such as that for so long.

Bigby feverishly closed the blinds over the single window where Gren was first spotted, and made a break to casually sit in his chair again before Carley followed into the room after him. "I've been here barely over 24 hours and I almost unknowingly walked home with a criminal. New York City, huh?" She jokingly spoke, sitting in her chair once again. Now that she had nothing more to ask, all sense of professional presentation went away. Carley leaned against the wooden backing, crossed her ankles, and folded her arms.

"Yeah." He bleakly answered, preoccupied with worriedly glancing to the window again. Another cigarette was popped out from the box and stuck in his mouth. Like routine, the lighter was taken from his right pants pocket and lightly illuminated the small area around his head with the small flame as the stress relief was lit. "I know you have to get home soon."

"...Uh huh."

"Don't worry. It won't be long. I'll… call 911. I mean, shit- what is it? 12:00? 1:00?"

"... Yeah…"

"I know this is a little delayed, but I should probably apologize for calling you so late the other night. I had only thought of contacting you right then, and I just wasn't thinking. I haven't been taking care of myself, just like you noticed. I shouldn't have taken that out on you."

There was no reply.

"... Carley?" He sat up to view her, only to see closed eyes on a peacefully sleeping face. Bigby almost let out a laugh, at the thought of talking to himself for a few minutes while she remained passed out in his chair.

Unfortunately, Gren was probably still outside.

Making sure he wasn't seen was the top priority. If it meant staying in the stuffy office for another few hours, then that was a small price to pay. Losing interest in the current situation he couldn't control, Bigby broke his crazed no-rest streak. The half-finished smoke was extinguished in the cluttered tray on the desk. Similarly to how Carley had, he leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and relaxed.


End file.
